INTO SUMMER... a busy time (Part 173f)

INTO SUMMER… a busy time (Part 173f)

It was obvious on the first lap that the work done on the carburetor didn’t really help. Luckily, we started in the back… and we stayed there. The same hesitation was there when Cliffy got on the accelerator pedal and, because of it, the car that was following him into the turn ran into him. After two laps of being run into Cliffy let the guy pass him on the inside and was content to stay in last place. Back in the pits we changed the carburetor back to our own in time for the consolation, or, what was sometimes called the “last chance” race. It was for the cars that didn’t qualify for the main event. Six cars would qualify out of the race and that’s where we finished, but at least we were in the feature event. That ended up being a race of survival. Out of 24 cars that started there were only 12 running at the end and we were 11th. We got banged up a bit but no real damage.

It was always hoped that after each night we raced that we’d learn something. That was certainly so on this night. I wasn’t that knowledgeable when it came to the technical aspects of motors so what I was hearing didn’t ‘register’ right away. The learning experience actually started with the problem during the practice where Cliffy and Dick had to ‘tweak’ the carburetor. It continued when what they did hadn’t really helped with the performance during the qualifying race. Cliffy went to Freddy, the driver who’d loaned the carburetor, to ask his help. What Cliffy learned was that almost everybody who was running the big block Chevy engine had bored the enginge block out, put in oversized pistons, purchased a camshaft from a company in Florida that specialized in racing cams and bought the carburetor that we were trying to run. The problem was we didn’t have all the other stuff to go with the carburetor thus the motor “loaded up” with the fuel that it wasn’t able to burn. In writing this I’m still pissed off. When we were trying to put the new motor together and asking for guidance we were not told any of the above nor about the potential problem with the crankshaft. It was too late now so we had to make do with what we had. Long story short… Freddy felt badly about the carburetor not working for us and offered to let us use his fuel injection set-up assuring Cliffy that he’d work with us on how to get it to work for us. It was available because Freddy had just signed on to drive for one of the most legendary car owners in the area and was no longer racing his own car. The biggest concern with doing it was we’d have to burn alcohol rather than gas and it was expensive.

Freddy and his wife had come over to partake of the goodies Beth and Ra were cooking up on the hibachi’s we’d fired up. I’d not seen much of her in the past because she was seldom in the pits. She, like Beth, was one of the official scorers for the track and was up in what was called “the Tower” and when the races were over would usually take her kids home knowing that Freddy would hang around to talk with the other racers. A short but trim woman, she had an ‘interesting’ look to her. When Freddy was racing his own car their colors were red and white. She, to keep up with it, wore white pants and a red and white checkered blouse. The lights in our pit were too dim for me to check her out for a VPL but I definitely made a mental note to check her out in the future.

As we broke the party up Freddy said he’d come out to Cliffy’s place on Wednesday night with all the gear we’d need to change over to fuel injection. I knew absolutely nothing about how it worked and was looking forward to learning about it. If it did what Freddy said it would do it would be a definite improvement in our performance. It wasn’t until we were well on our way home that I remembered we would have to check the bearings on the motor. In a way I was looking forward to that hoping I’d get a chance to spin a few of the bearings out to check them out. I calculated that even with the extra distance race we’d run we’d only run about 15 laps more than a normal night. We’d only made 5 laps in practice because of having to work on the carburetor. On a normal night we’d probably run 25 to 30 laps of practice. So, when looking at the bearings we’d be in a good position to know what to expect for the rest of the season. We had one more night where we had to start in the rear and that would work out to our advantage as we could get the fuel injection working. By the time we got back to my house I was really excited about what would be happening with the car during the week.

I woke up to Elle’s alarm on Sunday morning. Normally I was awake by then but getting to bed around 1pm was the reason. Looking out the window I was actually surprised to see it not only raining but to see how windy it was. As much as I liked to sail and to race I was thinking/hoping that they might just call them off as I certainly could use some rest. At church, I understood the Bishop was only coming to the 10am service. I was there for the 8am one because I wanted to make sure everything was in order. The ladies auxiliary were also there preparing the ‘goodies’ that would be served after the service when the parishioners would get a chance to meet the Bishop. In surveying the undercroft I noted how dark it was even with all the lights on. Without sun the small casement windows didn’t provide enough light. There was nothing that could be done at this late hour. I could hear people getting seated up in the church so decided to head on up. I opened the door to the stairs and as I looked up I saw a woman at the very top with her back towards me. She was talking to someone as I started up the stairs. I saw she had on a short skirt but didn’t think there was any chance to see anything. But this was another case of doing what my banking friend in the city, Dan, preached… “always keep your eyes open”. I was almost to the top when she suddenly bent over and reached down to rub one of her legs. As she did I could see something that looked like it might be off white covering her rear. A few more steps before I realized she was wearing panty hose. I hated panty hose!

I was shocked to find that the woman turned out to be the wife of the Bishop. When I got almost to the top she finally noticed me and stepped aside. It turned out that she was wiping down her legs which had gotten wet from the driving rain as she made her way from the parking lot to the front door. As a vestryman I made a point of chatting with her and escorting her to the pew that had been set aside for the Bishop’s contingent. As the service started I thought back to the muted panty view I’d just seen but a few minutes before. It was a reminder that you never can tell when an opportunity might present itself.

To be continued…